


After the Fall

by ToukoTai



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen, Male My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Post Good End, Temporary Amnesia, can be read as chrobin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-02 10:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15794616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToukoTai/pseuds/ToukoTai
Summary: Of all the Shepherds Robin's met, Frederick is perhaps the one he has the highest opinion of.Squarely because, of all the Shepherds Robin's met, Frederick is the only that thinks maybe they shouldn't trust the guy without memories they found lying in a field.Then again, everyone else apparently already knows him and no one seems overly concerned that he only remembers his name. In fact, they act like it's downrightnormal.





	1. Chapter 1

_ “It’s over now.” The man said it with such finalty that Robin let himself be drawn into a tight hug. It was clear he needed this contact and Robin didn’t feel threatened by him, so he allowed it. He awkwardly patted the man on the back.  _

 

_ That appeared to be the wrong move however. The man stiffened at his hesitant pat and pulled back. Robin had enough time to note how blue his eyes were before the man spoke. _

 

_ “Robin? Are you...you  _ **_are_ ** _ Robin, right?” There was worry and concern laced tight with fear in the man’s voice. Robin saw no reason not to answer. _

 

_ “Yes.” He said simply. “I’m Robin.” The man’s shoulders slumped in relief and the girl behind the man’s shoulder was smiling so wide that Robin felt bad. But he had to ask. “How do you know my name?” And watched that smile shatter. But the man holding his arms didn’t falter, he stared straight into Robin’s eyes. Searching for something. _

 

_ “Robin, what’s the last thing you remember?” His voice was soft with sadness. Casting back in his mind Robin was met only with blankness, a terrifying vast emptiness where his life should have been. Robin realized he  _ **_didn’t_ ** _ remember anything. There was  _ **_no_ ** _ last thing he remembered. The man saw his expression crumple and gripped his shoulders harder, holding him up. He brought his hand, fingers trembling, to his head, in the wild thought that if he could touch it, he could fix it. _

 

_ “I don’t-I don’t remember  _ **_anything_ ** _.” He whispered. “Why can’t I remember?” The only thing keeping him from sinking back down to his knees was the man’s unbreakable hold on him. “Did you do this to me?!” It made logical sense, they were there when he woke up and they knew his name. But the moment the words left his mouth, Robin knew it wasn’t right. He didn’t need the stifled wet gasp of hurt from the girl to know it. _

 

_ The man stayed strangely calm, the only emotions Robin could see were worry, concern and a deep abiding sense of relief. _

 

_ “No. I swear to you, we could never hurt you. I will never cause you injury or harm.” His voice was steady and firm. And familiar.  Like Robin was used to hearing it, used to following it. He was already nodding before the man had finished. “My name is Chrom. And you are my  _ **_best_ ** _ friend.” There were probably worse things to be, Robin decided. “Everyone’s been waiting for you. Would you like to meet them?” The man-Chrom offered. _

 

_ And Robin had  _ **_so_ ** _ many questions. _

 

_ “You can ask all the questions you want and we’ll answer as best we can. But it’d be better to do that...not out here.” Chrom said, laughing at Robin’s suspicious squint. “I know you, Robin, you’ve probably got a thousand and one questions all swirling around in that head of your’s and trying to figure out the best plan of action with whatever information you have.” Robin fought down a blush. Because that was exactly what he was doing. Chrom smiled fondly at him, he let go of Robin’s shoulders and stepped back. “I won’t force you to, but please,” He held out a hand to Robin. “Come  _ **_home_ ** _.” _

 

_ Everything in Robin told him to go. Everything in him said ‘this person is safe, this person is trustworthy’. And Robin...he really wanted a home to go to. _

 

_ He didn’t even think twice when he reached out and grasped Chrom’s hand. _


	2. Chapter 2

Home turned out to be a castle. _The_ castle, in fact. The Royal Castle in the capital of Ylisse.

Because Chrom and Lissa were the Exalt and Princess of Ylisse. (Robin was of the opinion they should have told him that _before_ entering the city.) ‘Everyone’ turned out to be the entirety of the Exalt specialist military division: The Shepherds.

And everyone _had_ been waiting for him.

 

There’d been a mild discussion on the road about either Lissa or Chrom riding ahead to spread the news, but neither had wanted to leave him. So no one had gone. As such when they entered the barracks allotted to the Shepherds, it was anticlimactic at first.

No one was there.

“Must be out working.” Chrom was unconcerned. “Come on, let’s show you around. Maybe something will jog that memory of your’s.” Robin wasn’t as optimistic. But he did feel a sense of peace and comfort behind the grey stone walls of the barracks.

Lissa had slipped away as soon as Robin had started poking around the weapon storage.

“Do I live here?” Chrom was standing back, just watching as Robin picked up a sword with a jagged designed blade. It felt right in his hands, maybe weighted a bit off, but the calluses on his hands fit perfectly to the sword hilt. Chrom hadn’t answered and when Robin looked back at him eyebrows raised, he was slightly caught off guard by the expression on Chrom’s face.

Satisfaction, contentment, pure happiness.

Robin didn’t want to investigate the _why’s_ too much. Instead he cleared his throat rather meaningfully. Better not to think about the depths of relationships he didn’t remember with people he currently didn’t know.

“Oh, right.” Chrom scratched the back of his head. “When you first joined us, you did. These days the barracks is used more for new trainees and on duty Shepherds.” Robin turned back to inspecting the weapons, placing the sword carefully back where he got it from.

“Where do I live now?” It was a double question and Chrom knew it. He answered promptly, without pause.

“In the castle. After I was named Exalt, we moved the veterans into a wing in the castle, to make more room for the war recruits. You have your own room there. It’s, well, it’s exactly how you left it. If you don’t want to stay there, we can find a different room.” Chrom offered. Robin shook his head.

“That’s not ne-” He was cut off by a clatter and a loud shriek.

Without thinking, he grabbed the sword he’d been handling early, and his body slid into a defensive stance. Chrom had closed the distance, sliding into place next to him, his own sword at the ready. And almost immediately Chrom relaxed, the source of the shirek was a woman about the same age as Chrom and possibly himself as well. Long brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. Her hands were clapped over her mouth and wide brown eyes stared back him, threatening to spill tears. A long spear, (pegasus knight lance, his mind supplied) lay at her feet, clearly she’d dropped it in her surprise.

“R-robin?” She trembled all over, her words muffled by her hands. “Is that really you?” Belatedly, Robin lowered the sword and stood back up. He nodded.

“Sumia, wait-” Chrom started and then seeing that it was useless, deftly snatched the sword out of Robin’s slack grip. Leaving him completely defenseless as the woman threw herself around his shoulders. Hugging him a crushing grip.

“You’re here, you’re _here_. You came _back!_ ” She was crying into his neck and Robin, did not know what to do. He cast a helpless glance at Chrom, who smiled at him like the brat he was, and mimed hugging her back. Robin did, awkwardly, deciding that maybe patting her on the back like he had Chrom wasn’t a good idea.

Hugging her only made her cry harder. And Robin did not know what to do with this. Chrom was hiding his laughter under the guise of putting away the sword. (Levin Sword, his mind spat out.) Just as it seemed like Robin might be able to pull away, there was another exclamation and another body slammed into his. And then another and another.

Before Robin knew it he was being passed around from Shepherd to Shepherd. Slapped on the back, hugged, cried on, _missed_. There was no doubt these people knew him, cared about him, missed him. And were happy he was back, overjoyed to see him. Even the news that he had exactly zero memories to his name didn’t phase them. They took it in stride and suddenly it was story time.

With every member from the boy mage Ricken to the shy dancer Olivia chipping in to answer his questions or tell him small anecdotes about his time with them.

“You are all mad.” Robin informed Gaius. Gaius laughed and stuck a lollipop in Robin’s mouth. It tasted like watermelon, something chimed in his head. He knew this was his favorite flavor. But more then that, glancing at Gaius smug grin, he’d _known_ watermelon was Robin’s favorite.

“Aw Bubbles, that’s not it. We’re all just happy to see you again.” Gaius said.

“Precisely,” Miriel handed him a cup of water. Her tone flat and no nonsense, but her actions indicating that she cared a great deal about him. “Your input and experience has been sorely missed. It is very good to have you back, in whatever capacity you are.”

The sentiment is echoed many times over by many different people throughout the night.

* * *

 

It’s late by the time Chrom brings him to his room.

The Shepherds hadn’t been willing to let Robin leave and truthfully, Robin hadn’t wanted to. Eventually though the events of the day had caught up to him. Robin had thought he was hiding his fatigue well enough, until Chrom’s arm came down around his shoulders and he was firmly escorted out of the gathering.

Chrom’s authoritative voice quelling any arguments from the others as he gently directed Robin into the cool night air.

“I’d apologize.” Chrom says, not the least bit sheepish. “But I’m not sorry. You look tired and it’s been an eventful day for everyone.” Robin nodded, skipping over the exact content of the words.

“You must know me very well.” Chrom laughed, tugging Robin closer against his side.

“I’ve gotten very good at looking for your tells. You don’t hide things nearly as well as you did before.” Robin was thankful for the cover of the night, it hid his blush. Chrom’s arm was a warm comfortable weight across his shoulders. One which wasn’t removed until they stood in front of a wooden door, in a domestic wing, not far from an exit to the barracks.

“Well,” Chrom began, sliding his arm from around Robin’s shoulders. “This is you.” Robin nodded, staring dumbly at the door. Behind it would be the room that belonged to the other him. The one that was a Shepherd, the one that everyone knew. The one that knew everyone back. He worried his bottom lip, hesitant about what he would find. Slowly he lifted his hand and placed it on the latch. But couldn’t bring himself to move further.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Chrom asked, gently. Robin nodded, he was that weak. Chrom’s bigger hand covered his own and they opened the door together.

 

The room wasn’t as terrifyingly alien as Robin had feared it would be.

In fact, as he walk around the edges of the moderately sized room, it felt...comfortable. A single bed, a red rug, a desk and chair and shelves and shelves of books. Colors that were pleasant to his eyes and the design on the rug soothed him. Everything was neat and tidy and in its place. Except for a small pile of saddlebags and traveling gear piled in the center of the room.

“We were on a campaign when you...well, when you left.” Chrom explained, following the line of Robin’s gaze to the equipment pile. “That’s what you’d brought with at the main camp.” After he left. Under mysterious circumstances that hadn’t yet been fully explained to him. After he’d gone, kidnapped or of his own volition, the Exalt of Ylisse had believed so strongly that he would be back, _wanted_ him to come back, he’d taken what Robin had packed and returned it to his room. Waiting for when Robin would return.

“I should probably never bet against you.” Robin muttered under his breath, running a hand along the dustless surface of a shelf. Regular cleanings too.

“What was that?” Chrom asked from his station near the door.

“Nothing.” Robin was quick to deny, a thought occurred to him. He spun around on his heel. Chrom raised an eyebrow. “Your Highness-” He started only to be cut off by a snort of disgust.

“Please, Robin,” Chrom groaned. “Don’t call me that. Not you. It’s always been just Chrom between us.” Robin blinked.

“Okaaaay, Chrom.” Chrom smiled at him. “What is my position here? With the Shepherds?”

“Can’t you guess?” Chrom teased, eyes twinkling with mirth. Yeah, Robin could and Chrom knew he could. Robin had already tallied up everything he knew about himself. He could obviously fight, knew swordplay, perhaps even magic, as the way his sword free hand had grasped at his belt in a distinct tome-like grip when Sumia had startled them. He would have pegged himself as a mid range support unit.

Except.

Except everyone’s stories about him. For the most part they were fun, little slice of life stories. But one or two tales of war had crept in. From that, Robin had gleaned that he had some sort of command authority. Which didn’t make much sense, since Chrom was the Exalt and his commands should be the ones followed. His mind had been quick to catalogue the different weapons in the barracks, their strengths and weaknesses. What kind of fighters would be best to use them and who they would be strongest against.

And there was his room. The vast majority of the books, that he could see, had to do with military history. Records of begone battles, heroes and wars, and most importantly, the _tactics_ used. Maps were kept in rolled scrolls neatly in compartments on his desk. And a small box of carved figures sat innocently next to his inkwell. The corner of a well used travel chessboard peeked out from one of the saddlebags on the floor.

Robin cast one last glance around the room- _his_ room- and met Chrom’s vaguely challenging stare.

“A tactician.” He says and it feels right. He’s a tactician.

“You’re not just _a_ tactician. Robin,” Chrom places his hands on Robin’s shoulders, looking him deep in the eyes. “You’re _the_ Tactician. The Grandmaster. The Royal Advisor.” Each title feels like a weight, holding him down, tying him to this place and these people. He finds he doesn’t mind. “Robin, you’re _my_ Royal Advisor. I trust you more then I have ever trusted _anyone_. And I always will.” Chrom’s staring at him hard, willing him to believe him, to make a connection, no, to _renew_ a connection Robin hadn’t realized was there. “Welcome back, to a better life.”

Those words.

For some reason, hearing them makes him feel like a huge burden has been lifted from his shoulders. Something cracks and crumbles in the depths of his soul. Robin’s breath catches and never quite goes back.

He stares wide eyed at Chrom. The tears start small,welling up and slipping down his cheeks, it feels like there’s no end to them. They come faster and faster, his breathing hitches in gulps. Chrom wraps him up in a tight firm hug.

Before Robin knows it, he’s sobbing, large ugly cries, snot and tears streaming down his face. His hands fist in the back of Chrom’s shirt, holding tightly, as though the tidal wave of his emotions would sweep him away if he let go. It felt like being scoured clean. As though each tear and cry to leave him carried with it something dark and unknown. Leaving nothing but himself, just _Robin_ , behind.

The entire time, Chrom’s arms hold him up, bracing him and comforting him. One of his hands strokes soothingly through Robin’s hair. He doesn’t even flinch or pull away when Robin buries his face in Chrom’s neck. It can’t have been comfortable for him. Afterwards, Robin will color will embarrassment and shame. (It’s one thing to have a man tell you he trusts you with his life, it’s another to get snot and tears all over the Exalt’s neck and shirt.) Chrom never says a word about it. In the moment, he knew what Robin needed and provided it, willingly, gladly and immediately.

 

Robin finds Chrom sleeping in his desk chair the next morning. And he doesn’t know what that says about him or Chrom. That the Exalt will let him cry messily all over him and then sit guard in his room through the night.

(He must have done _something_ right, to have someone like Chrom in his life.)


	3. Chapter 3

It was clear to Robin after only a few days, _this_ was where he had come from, or had resided for a very long while. Long enough and interacted enough, that there was a hole in all the Shepherds’ daily schedules and routines that was shaped like him.

They included him wherever they could. Some like Olivia or Ricken, would blush or stammer whenever they forgot he didn’t remember the same things they did. Others would just plow on like it hardly mattered. On the whole, they’d adapted really, _really_ quickly to a member of their group suddenly re-appearing and not remembering _anything_.

Robin found the whole situation very…disconcerting. Everyone was being extremely nice and polite and understanding.

It was still really off-putting.

Off putting that the only thing Robin remembered, after Chrom and Lissa woke him in that field, was his own name. And off putting that no one else seemed to think that was weird. That everyone else, _knew_ him. Knew what he liked and didn’t like, knew how he would react in some situations, knew him as only close friends or family would. And he, he didn’t know any of them at all.

As far as Robin knew, his life began when Chrom pulled him to his feet in the field.

So he was somewhat glad to discover he wasn’t the only one suspicious of the entire affair.

 

“We don’t even know if he is Robin!” Frederick’s voice boomed through the door. “ _Our_ Robin. He doesn’t know either! Or he does and is just-”

“Enough.” Chrom silenced the knight, Robin backed up until he hit the wall opposite the closed door. He didn’t want to hear it and at the same time he was gratified to hear it. It proved that his own suspicions about himself were shared. Not just a flight of anxiety filled panicking. Inside the room, Chrom’s voice was raised, not in anger but in authority. The closed door did little to distort the words, merely muffled them. “Thraja, Henry _and_ Tiki have examined him. No illusions, no magic, no brand, that is Robin. Completely. It doesn’t matter if he’s _our_ Robin or not. He’s _Robin_ and he needs us.”

“Milord, I’m only trying to keep you grounded.”

“I know and I appreciate that. But it doesn’t matter to me if Robin regains his memories and isn’t our Robin or if he is and never remembers us. His place is with us. It always has been. It always will be.”

“Very well, Milord. But I shall be keeping a close eye on him.”

Robin didn’t wait to hear anymore, as quickly and quietly as he could he went back the way he’d come. Clearly though, Frederick was the most level headed of all the Shepherds. Robin had been wondering how Chrom managed to survive so long and it looked like he had his answer.  


This among other small things led Robin to believe there was something _big_ that the Shepherds weren’t telling him. That Chrom wasn’t telling him.

It gnawed at his brain, and dug in at the center of his self doubt. It was obvious from how he was treated and the way everyone, even strangers on the street interacted with him, that he was, or had been, a person of good standing. The Shepherds accepted him in as though he was family. And from the vague feelings of warmth and happiness Robin felt around them, he was ready to concede that they _were_ his family. That this was where he belonged.

Then why had he left? If this was the place that felt like _home_ , what could possibly have convinced him to pack up and leave? No one had flat out told him, it was just referred to as ‘when you were gone’. But _where_ had he gone? And _why_?

Obviously, his leaving had not been expected, but his return was. They’d all been happy and excited to have him back, had obviously been waiting a while, and though the _when_ of his return had been a surprise, no one was surprised that he _had_ returned. Even without his memories.

Still, the why’s of his disappearance remained a mystery, and, if he was honest with himself, Robin was afraid to ask.

What was so terrible that no one could tell him? That Frederick was worried for Chrom’s safety? Did the war twist him around? Did he break under the constant toll of stacking lives lost versus victories won? Is that what had happened? Had he turned into a person so terrible that the only recourse was to erases every iota of his memory leaving only his name intact? (Because Chrom could _never_ kill him, could never allow him to be killed, that was apparent.)

No, that couldn’t be it. Chrom had already sworn to him at the start it hadn’t been them. So what could have happened? (Although, he’d only said he wouldn’t _hurt_ Robin. Erasing memories wasn’t _hurting_ , was it?)

  


The breaking point was marked by one of his somewhat frequent deliberating headaches.

The kind where he could do nothing else but curl into a ball on his bed, pressing his head into his pillow. Drapes covering his window and all light gone. The entire wing outside his room was silent at these times and at first Robin had just assumed everyone was out attending to their duties.

As time went on and an attack came in the middle of the day, Robin came to the realization that everyone was deliberately leaving the wing when he came down with one of his headaches, or if they stayed, being as quiet as they possibly could be. To spare his heightened overstimulated hearing.

On the one hand, he felt incredibly guilty and embarrassed that his affliction caused his wingmates to completely change the course of their day. On the other hand, he felt...loved. That his friends would easily, without protest or a second thought accommodate him by altering their own schedules and habits. And it seemed at least in part, that they were used to doing this for him. Had done it many times before, in the period of time they knew each other that Robin couldn’t remember.

Or was starting to remember.

His headaches usually came on in the night or the morning, usually accompanied by some sort of strange dark vision. Ones that made no sense and had no place in the light of day, so Robin hadn’t mentioned them. (Visions of death and destruction and his own voice whispering terrible, horrible things.)

He made the connection when he heard two of his wingmates chatting outside his door.

“He get hit with another un?” Gaius was mercifully not chomping on a hard candy.

“Yes. Awfully bad too. He turned _green_!” Lissa, she must have just stepped out of his room. She was always, _always_ the one to attend to him when a headache hit.

This one had come suddenly, without warning, like a bolt of Thoron to his brain.

 

He’d felt out of sorts since he’d woken up that morning, he’d picked at his breakfast and largely ignored the conversation around him. It hadn’t hit until he was leaning against a post at the training fields watching Gregor drill Donnel on proper sword and shield form. When Gregor raised his shield to block, an errant shaft of sunlight had glanced off it, striking Robin’s eyes.

And he saw _a shield unlike any before. Brilliantly glittering gemstones of blue, green, red and grey set in burnished metal. A sick sense of_ **_wrongness_** _. A tall thin man with a pointed beard and eyes of madness taking the shield from his outstretched hands. Fear, confusion, shame boiled in his stomach. Threatening to erupt. But he couldn’t move and he couldn’t not give the man the shield._

It was over in a second. Robin dropped to his hands and knees, vomiting the little he’d eaten back up. His head _pounded_ . The light was too bright, the world was too _loud_. Everything _hurt_ , his head most of all. He felt rather then heard the vibration of people running to him. There were questions, voices raised in concern, but Robin couldn’t make out the words. Couldn’t force his brain and his mouth to work with his voice. He curled inwards, trying to block out as much of the outside world as he could.

At some point he was brought or carried to his room. He didn’t remember walking. He didn’t remember much of anything after the training yard. Just suddenly becoming aware, alone in his room, with the drapes drawn tightly and a wet cool cloth dampening his forehead. With Gaius and Lissa talking in quiet tones outside his door.

 

“He’d get them back then too.” Lissa again. “My brother says it would happen whenever he had a vision of his memories. From _before_.” Robin was now wide awake.

“Oh. So, do you think this is a good sign? Maybe he’s remembering?” Robin stomach warmed at how hopeful Gaius sounded and froze over at the same thought.

“I don’t know.” Robin could picture Lissa shaking her head in denial. “He hasn’t said anything.”

“A lot of bad things happened, princess. Could be he hasn’t remembered anything _good_ yet.” So there were good things to remember? Robin wasn’t sure he believed that given the content of the visions...of his _memories_. “Just give it time, better that he’s here at all.”

Lissa murmurers an agreement. Footsteps muffled and fading as Gaius walks off. The door to his room creaks open and closes gently and quietly. Softer footsteps and Lissa is taking the cloth off his forehead, swishing it through water, wringing it and and replacing it. The coldness against his aching skull feels wonderful, causing him to groan involuntarily.

“Robin?” Lissa keeps her voice barely above a whisper. (Everyone here knows exactly how his headaches affect him. Without him even telling them.) “Are you awake?” Robin doesn’t feel quite up to talking, so he nods as carefully and stiffly as possible. Lissa shifts in her chair, fingers plucking uselessly at her skirt. “Do you...do you have any questions?” Robin takes his time, gathering his scattered mental process together and then bullying his throat and vocal chords into working.

“Was I-” Robin’s voice came out as a croak, he swallowed and tried again, eyes closed against the cool damp of the cloth. “Was I a good person?”

“Oh Robin.” Lissa said, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “You were. You absolutely, positutely were.” She gently folded her hands around one of his. Squeezing it. Her grip is strong and her hands have more then a healer’s calluses on them. “You did _so_ much for all of us. Whatever you remember. Just. You helped me, and you helped Chrom. You helped us all when it would have been easier for you to leave. You put _everything_ on the line for us, for all of Ylisse. You’re the _best_ person I know.” Robin didn’t trust his voice, he nodded instead even though it made him feel like he was about to throw up again. The cloth slipped enough that he could slit an eye open. “You don’t believe me.” Lissa remarked sadly. And gods help him, even her pigtails drooped.

“It’s...hard.” He said slowly, focusing on the dark ceiling above them. Feeling his way to the words carefully, squinting against even the dim light of his room. “I keep...seeing things. Hearing things. They’re...bad. Really...bad.” Lissa nodded, her eyes sympathetic.

“Bad things, terrible things happened.” She said quietly. Like even talking about it would make those things happen all over again. “But none of those terrible things were your fault. I promise.” She pulled back her hands and stuck out her pinky. “Pinky promise.” Robin snorted in amusement. Lissa may have been a mature healer of war, but she could act like a child at times. He didn’t mind it one bit, and hooked his own pinky through her’s.

 

Surprisingly, he did feel...lighter, better after doing that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think Frederick has never met a gift horse who's mouth he hasn't inspected at length.
> 
> In case you were wondering the only part of this fic that was actually typed prior is the middle part with Chrom and Frederick. That little paragraph sat in my drafts for three whole years.


	4. Chapter 4

When he came awake again, the headache had passed, leaving only an empty ache after it. It was dark, true dark. The silvery light of the moon edged its way around his drapes. Without thinking, Robin reached from his bed and twitched the drape aside, letting the moonlight in.

He froze in the act with his arm still outstretched. The moonlight having illuminated a visitor.

Chrom stared passively back at him from the chair Lissa had been sitting in earlier, arms crossed over his chest. Not creepy at all, Robin thought.

“Uh, hi.” Robin tried, since Chrom himself seemed perfectly content to let the silence reign.

“Hi.” Chrom’s lips twitched with amusement. “I heard you had an incident today. I wanted to make sure you were alright.” Robin dropped his arm back down to his side, sitting up against his head board.

“It couldn’t wait until morning?” He asked mildly curious. Chrom was the Exalt, he had many duties and responsibilities that kept him busy from sunrise to sunset every day. Yet he felt it was important to sit in the room of his amnesiac tactician because he’d gotten word that Robin had one of his headaches earlier.

“I felt guilty I couldn’t check in with you sooner.” Chrom admitted. “And then it was so quiet here that I _may_ have drifted off.” Frederick was probably outside the door then, having a conniption fit. “So, how are you feeling?” Robin took a few seconds to catalogue himself. Aside from the dull ache in his head, nothing felt wrong.

“Fine.” He answered truthfully. “I’m okay now.” Chrom nodded, much like he expected that answer.

“Lissa said you might have some concerns about yourself. Or questions you didn’t know how to ask. So I thought I might try to fill in some blanks, starting with how we met, if you don’t mind?” Robin didn’t. Surprisingly he hadn’t thought to ask about that. Everyone else had told him more or less the first time they’d met, except Lissa...and Chrom.

Chrom shuffled a little in his seat, getting more comfortable.

“I met you, much the same way you met me. I found you, in that exact same field come to think, sleeping.” He began. “And the only thing you knew was your name.”

By the time Chrom finished his tale, Robin was both in disbelief and more then a little halfway to sleep.

“I won’t take this as a slight against my story telling skills.” Chrom said, pulling the blanket over Robin’s shoulder. “Just get some rest, we’ll talk more tomorrow.” Robin wanted to protest, but the pull of sleep was stronger. His aching mind wanted rest and Robin couldn’t deny it much longer. He did want to ask Chrom a question, but it would have to wait.

_When I pulled you up from the grass, the first thing I noticed was your tattoo, like a brand, the second was your eyes of course!_

  


Robin knocked hesitantly on the heavy wooden door to the Exalt’s office.

It had been bothering him since the morning. His head still felt tender and sore. But the moonlight conversation with Chrom wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Enter.” Robin pushed the door open, walking inside and then almost immediately walking back outside.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were in a meet-”

“We were just about to take a break. Your timing is perfect.” Chrom said, smiling at Robin as two of the older counselors looked vaguely confused. “Counselors, we’ve all got much to think about. Let’s reconvene same time tomorrow.” The Counselors rose with Chrom, bowed stiffly and left the room. Not without a little resentment Robin felt.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Robin warned, stepping into the room. “They feel slighted now and will be twice as hard to deal with tomorrow.” Chrom stretched, rolled his shoulders and grinned at Robin.

“Always looking out for me.” He said fondly. “Come in, come in. They are a problem for tomorrow-me and not today.”

“You say that now,” Robin closed the door behind him at Chrom’s gesture. “But tomorrow you might not.”

“You are infinitely more important to me then a couple of old, petty elders.” Chrom declared easily and Robin felt his cheeks darken just a bit at how free Chrom was his affection. “You haven’t come to my office since you came home. Is there something wrong?” Chrom had come around to the front of his desk. Putting him in arm’s length of Robin. He wasn’t wearing his armor for backroom political deals, that wouldn’t have prudent. But Robin was gratified to see that Falchion was still strapped to his waist.

“About, about last night.” Robin’s fingers twisted in the hems of his robe’s sleeves. He knew Chrom could see that and he knew that Chrom knew it was one of his tells. But the man was merciful and didn’t mention it.

“Yes. I hope I set your mind a little at ease.” Chrom’s eyes were so blue and so full care and concern and Robin just didn’t believe he deserved any of that.

“You said.” He paused steeling himself. “You said I had a brand.” Chrom’s mouth flattened into a line. He wasn’t angry or displeased, but he was unhappy. Robin could only hope he wasn’t unhappy with him. But since he made no move to cut Robin off or deny him even a request, Robin continued. “What did it look like?”

“Knew you were going to ask about it.” Chrom sighed. “But I had a little bit of hope maybe you wouldn’t.” And it’s maybe also a little test of what Chrom had promised that first day: _Ask anything and we will answer it._

Instead of protesting, or deflecting or not answering, Chrom twisted, and began to sketch on a piece of parchment. “I’m not the country’s best artist, bear that in mind.” He said. “It was on the back of your right hand originally.” He turns around in a fluid motion, holding out the piece of parchment.

Robin’s world narrows down to that six eyed design. Simple, neat, elegant strokes and lines which managed to convey malice and anger. Robin sees it in his mind, purple and poison. It grows in his vision until he can’t see anything else.

 _The sick sense of wrongness soaks into his very soul. It feels like there’s a weight on him, in him. A weight of pure malice and wrath and_ **_hate_** _. Something ancient and powerful sits in his body. Suffocating him. Robin tries to sit up and can’t, he tries to open his mouth and can’t, he tries to halt his own breath_ **_and can’t._ ** _Harsh grating laughter in his ears, triumphant._

_Chrom runs toward him, slides to his knees, desperation in every line of his face. And Robin wants to scream at him. Tell him to get away. Leave. Go. That Robin is no longer safe._

_His hand moves without his permission. Electricity crackles in his palm, ozone tints the air. Chrom’s face freezes in that one awful second. He grunts and it’s like a punch to Robin’s chest._

_But Chrom is the one with a hole in his chest, and bolt of solid lightning sticking through him. His blue eyes go wide and his breathing becomes wet. He stumbles away._

_“This-This isn’t your fault.” Chrom says, already losing the battle to stay standing. He won’t live, Robin_ **_knows_ ** _this. He can’t hear what Chrom is saying, he can’t hear his last words. In his mind Robin hears the death dragon roar with laughter. Feels its claws hook into his soul. Pulling him under and away. Hears the dark whispers reverberate through him, build to a victorious roar._

**_“Mine. My blood. My vessel. All mine. Finally, I am awakened into the world again! And all shall learn to fear me again! All will tremble before the might of Grima!”_ **

“Robin?” Strong hands are gripping his shoulders. Robin looked up, meeting Chrom’s worried gaze. At some point he’d sat down or been sat down. He didn’t remember doing that. What he did remember doing…

The piece of parchment gripped so tightly in his hands crinkles dangerously.

“I’m Grima.” Robin said, softly. Chrom sags a little. Robin doesn’t notice, his mind has turned inward, to the whirl storm of his thoughts and memories. What he’d thought were senseless nightmares. They weren’t nightmares at all. They were memories of what had been at some point and some place.

Grima was going to take over. He’d been born, no, he’d been _bred_ to be the human vessel for the Wings of Destruction. There was no escaping it. He was going to slaughter every one of his friends. He was going to stab Chrom in the stomach, _kill him_ , and then laugh over the corpse while his soul burned to ash under the dragon’s possession.

“Robin, stop.” Chrom’s voice cut through the panicked babble in Robin’s head, which apparently hadn’t stayed _in_ his head. “You’re not going to kill me.” He hadn’t even known he’d been speaking out loud. Robin peered up at Chrom from under his bangs and trembling fingers. He felt a burning anger. That Chrom knew, had to know, they _all_ had to know what he was! And they’d just been...playing house with him? When they _knew_ what he’d done? Could do? Might have done?

“How can you be so _sure?_ ” Robin hissed. “How can you _know?_ I’m Grima’s vessel. I’m a danger to _everyone!_ ” Chroms’s hands were firmly on Robin’s shoulders. Holding him in place, holding him down. Robin knew he was strong, but Chrom was stronger and there was no way to throw off this grip.

“You _were_ ...You were a vessel for Grima.” Chrom confirmed every one of Robin’s worst fears in one sentence. “But you’re _not_ any more.” Chrom said, just as firmly, just as surely. “Grima’s gone, Robin. He can’t hurt anyone anymore, not you, not me. Not _anyone._ ” Robin opened his mouth. To question, to _demand_. But Chrom knew what he was going to say and beat Robin to it.“He’s gone because you sacrificed yourself to finish him.” Robin’s mouth closed with a snap. The tension was thick in the air.

“I did-I did-I did.” He stuttered, unable to get a full sentence out. Robin’s mind was stuck in a loop, the small pieces and hints everyone had been giving him started falling into place. He hadn’t just wandered off or gotten misplaced. He’d _died_. He’d _died_ for the sake of his friends, his family. And they’d _missed_ him, oh so terribly. “I wasn’t, I was. I was _dead_?” Chrom crouches down, settling closer to eye level. A distant part of Robin’s mind appreciates that he’s no longer looming over him.

“Yes. No. Maybe.” Chrom smiles a little at Robin’s wide eyed look of incredulity. It’s a little bit sad. And a little bit happy. “We don’t know for sure. The only thing that could kill Grima was Grima’s own power.”

“I had his power.” Robin was still more then a hysterical, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. Trembling. The parchment sits forgotten on the floor. “Because I was his vessel. That...that should have killed me. Killing Grima, should have killed me. I should be _dead_.” Chrom’s expression goes sad and fond.

“I was going to seal him, but you. You didn’t want that. I couldn’t stop you. You always know what to do in any battle.” He said wearily. The echo of burned out grief in his words. “There was a chance you’d come back, if our bonds were strong enough.” Robin believes that, wholly and completely. He’s only been here maybe a month and he can feel those attachments to the people around him. They’re almost tangible. Like anchors, weighing him down lest he float away. “I knew you’d come back.” Chrom reaches out, cups Robin’s cheek in his gloved hand. “There’s no way you’d leave us to muddle through life missing you if there was even a single shot at coming back.”

And then Chrom does an impossible thing. He leans down and kisses Robin on his forehead. A soft, warm press of his lips to Robin’s brow. Robin hasn’t been able to pin down what they are to each other. Closer then friends, certainly. He’s been too preoccupied with sorting out his missing memories and everyone else’s relationships to him to even bother poking at the tangle that is Chrom. The single kiss, chaste, sweet and full love, throws Robin’s already overtaxed mind completely out of sorts. The roaring in his ears is overwhelming, his eyes go wide and his vision whites out, inside his brain a dam splinters and breaks.

 

_A field of green, a sky of blue and a hand helping him to his feet._

 

_The battlefield laid out in front of him like gridwork, the knowledge of every fighter listed cleanly before him. A town, a village, a desert, a wasteland, a meadow, a forest, a ship. So many battles, the numbers tallied on one side, always looking for the way of least casualties._

 

_“That is the difference between us,” Virion twirling a pawn between his fingers. “I sacrifice too much, you cannot bring yourself to sacrifice anyone. It makes you the better tactician. War is not a game.”_

 

_Laughing at Frederick’s face around the campfire the first time bear meat was brought up._

 

_Watching half frozen as Emmeryn plunged to her death._

 

_Stahl running a hand through tangled, sweaty hair and asking “I wonder if they sell hair brushes?” As they approached a traveling merchant. “For real though!” At Robin’s laugh._

 

_Pushing Chrom out of the way. Knocking Panne down to avoid the swing of an axe. Dodging a thrown spear. A shot arrow. Being lucky more times then he should be. Budgeting for bandages, splints, medicine, healer staffs._

 

_Sitting in the medical tent reading to a recovering Ricken. Pulling an arrow out of Lon’ Qu’s back as Lissa slapped a poultice over the wound. “Tell me who to stab next.” Comes out between gritted teeth and Robin shakes his head, pushing on Lon’ Qu’s shoulders. Hoping to keep him down and knowing that wasn’t going to last._

 

_Gregor and Nowi on the banks of a quiet lake, with him between them, learning how to skip stones. “You gotta flick your wrist! Like this!” She sends it skimming across the water for five hops. Robin manages three by the time the sun fully sets._

 

_Aversa, her hair as white as Robin’s, laughing laughing laughing, as the dead rise up at her feet._

 

_Orange red hair and a delighted smirk, a pastel pink parasol and twisted blond curls. Maribelle and Gaius arguing, debating, winding each other up, while Robin sat across from them, spoon almost to his mouth forgotten in the fit of coughing to cover up his laugh._

 

 _They were on the back of giant dragon. Wind whipping through his hair, Chrom at his side with the Falchion in hand. Across from them was_ **_him_** _. But wrong. So very wrong. Despair and death hung around him in a thick miasma and Robin’s eyes had never been as red nor as mad._

_This was it, the end of all things._

_Robin was dead set sure, that Chrom was 100% going to try and seal Grima. Robin was also dead set sure that_ **_he_ ** _was 100% going to kill himself first._

_“For once I’m glad you and I are the same.” He said, his open palm gathering fell power in electric crackles. “Now I can give my life to protect those I care for.” It hurt, using fell energy, it tore at the edges of the soul and screamed in the corners of his brain._

_Letting Grima be sealed would hurt a lot more. Would just pass his curse to another generation further down the line. And another one after that. He wouldn’t stand for it. For all the bonds he’d made to come to nothing. He’d see this through to the very end. “It’s only right, we meet our end together.” He says with conviction._

_Robin met the angry, wrathful glare of that other him. And ends the both of them. In one blast of fell magic. He can feel his body start to unravel, along with his soul. It’s not a bad way to go, Robin thinks, watching himself disintegrate into bright points of light. Turning back into star dust. It doesn’t even hurt._

_The last thing he sees before he goes is Chrom reaching out for him, a look of utter terror and heartbreak on his face._

_“May we meet again, in a better life.”_

 

With a deep breath, Robin wakes up.

The ceiling of his room is starting to get uncomfortably familiar in ways he’d never imagined it would.

He’s getting a little tired of this. Getting knocked out by his memories and waking up disoriented hours later back in his room. But now he has them all back. So he can look forward to no more splitting headaches. Gingerly, Robin sits up, taking stock of himself and his surroundings. He never really thought he’d see his room again. He’s touched that his friends had kept it exactly as he had left it. That even when he had doubted, they had _not_.

Speaking of his friends, his _family_. Chrom is sitting, well, sleeping, in the chair next to his bed again. Lissa is nowhere in sight or sound. Robin spent a few moments listening carefully for the sound of footsteps or the quiet murmurings of discussion. But hadn’t heard anything except maybe the hurried steps of a servant at the far end of the hall. Robin’s willing to bet Chrom shooed her off, feeling “responsible” for Robin’s latest fainting spell. Wanting to take charge of watching over him and then promptly fell asleep. Robin sighed, fond and exasperated all at once.

Carefully, Robin leaned closer, and even more carefully he reached out, paused with his hand hovering a mere inch from Chrom’s shoulder, adjusted his angle a bit and then, _pushed_.

With a yelp and a muffled curse, Chrom tumbled out of the chair, hitting the well carpeted floor of the room. Robin couldn’t help laughing, he bent over a little from the force of his laughter and maybe there was a slight hysterical edge to it. Because of all the things Robin thought he’d never get to do again, _that_ was in the top ten. And here he was, like he’d never even gone. Like the Dragon’s Table had never happened. Like it was just another long night of planning for the Shepherds and Robin had another of his trademark migraines that Chrom was sitting with him for.

“Robin you-!” Chrom popped up like a daisy, ready to fight like the old times. “You _remember_!” His anger and annoyance turned to joy so quickly. Robin bites back another hysterical bubble of laughter. Chrom doesn’t keep his distance, he clambers onto the bed. Strong arms wrap around Robin, pulling him close. Fitting Robin perfectly against his broad chest. Chrom’s fingers grip Robin’s shirt, squeeze his skin, desperate in their own way. That’s the only indication Chrom will ever give him about how hard this whole ordeal was for him.

Robin reaches back, brings his arms up Chrom’s back, grips his shirt in the same desperate way, buries his face in his shoulder again and _breathes_. For the first time in a very long time, maybe ever, Robin just _breathes_. Takes the comfort that’s being given and offers his own in turn.

“How did you even know I was me?” Robin asked, once they’d settled down, sitting next to each other on Robin’s cramped bed. Leaning against each other’s shoulders propping themselves up. “I could have been _any_ Robin. I could have been the one from _before_ , I could have even been an amnesiac Grima! Did you think of that?” Chrom patted Robin on the head, ruffling his hair for good measure. Robin glowered at a point on the wall opposite them.

“I knew it was you.” He was so _sure_ of himself. Chrom was like that. Always so _sure_. He could fool you, if you weren’t careful, into thinking he _actually_ knew what he was doing. But it was all a lie, Robin knew the truth. He suspected Frederick did as well. Chrom was an _idiot_. “I used a phrase only you, _our_ Robin would know.” At that, the wall was forgotten. Robin openly stared at Chrom and his look of self satisfaction. Finally, Robin felt moved to speak.

“Welcome back to a better life?” Chrom laughed at Robin incredulous tone. A massive, _massive_ idiot. “ _That’s_ what you came up with?”

“It made you cry, didn’t it?” Chrom asked, his voice light and teasing.

“Oh shut up.” Robin grumbled, punching Chrom in the shoulder and blushing brightly at his triumphant laugh.

Welcome back _indeed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robin, pls, you aren't that much better then Chrom. 
> 
> I like to think the two of them just feed off each other's bad ideas. Robin thinks he has better decision making abilities when in reality the two of them together give Frederick small heart attacks on the daily.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting, unfinished on my harddrive for over three years now.  
> Then I started playing Fire emblem Heroes, got Robin and remembered 'oh yeah, I love Robin. I wrote something for him right?'.
> 
> So you can all blame Fe heroes for this.


End file.
